


commandment 11

by rewindmp3



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, M/M, but if you disagree just lmk and i'll put warnings, i don't think i've written anything too violent, i mean it's a spy!au so there are action scenes, weak attempt at humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2019-07-04 02:34:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15831981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rewindmp3/pseuds/rewindmp3
Summary: The (unwritten) Eleventh Commandment of Counterintelligence: Thou Shalt Not Get Caughtdeception is in the eye of the beholder. mark tuan would know all about that.





	1. transgression

“Seriously, this is so unnecessary! I bet one of these chairs costs more than our entire apartment!” Jackson whisper-rants into the microphone embedded in the Chanel pin clipped to the lapel of his suit, “And they don’t even have organic green tea! What’s the point of being rich if you can’t get something so simple!”

“Jackson,” Jaebum hisses from his position, crouched in front of a vault door several floors below the ballroom, “for the _thousandth_ time, comms are for talking about only things _necessary_ to this mission! We do _not_ need to hear you complain about your opinions on clients’ misallocations of wealth!”

Mark has his back turned towards Jaebum, fingers working quickly to dismantle the security panel of the vault door, but Jaebum can practically _feel_ Mark’s eye roll as this exchange progresses.

“Yeah, seriously, hyung, you know I love you, but do you really have to talk about this every time we’re on a mission?” Bambam’s voice comes in a little out of breath, but he and Yugyeom _are_ currently racing against time to cover every square inch of the mansion with bugs and cameras as well as rifle through any drawers they can pry open for intel.

Through the comms, Jaebum can also hear Jinyoung’s hearty laughter as he distracts and charms the guests at the party. This is, coincidentally, also what Jackson is _supposed_ to be doing, but instead, Jackson is muttering, “Fine, fine. I’m just saying, organic green tea is a basic thing to have if you care about maintaining your body at all! You guys should really start drinking more of it, y’know, I don’t mind shar-”

“ _Jackson_ ,” Mark cuts off sharply, just as the lock clicks and the vault door hisses open, “you may be my partner, but _shut up_.”

“Mark! You’re supposed to have my back through thick and thin! How can you betray me like thi-”

“Excuse me,” they hear Jinyoung say, politely exiting a conversation with a foreign dignitary. Jaebum knows that Jinyoung’s eye-wrinkle smile is in full effect, knows that the person he was just speaking to will think that Jinyoung is such a sweet, kind gentleman, but everyone else on comms can hear the edge of warning in Jinyoung’s voice, a threat for Jackson to do his job properly, even though this is a relatively low-stakes assignment.

“Jinyoung-hyung, I know you want to nag Jackson-hyung right now, but that’s the President of South Korea walking your way. _Please_ keep him busy,” comes Youngjae’s voice. Youngjae is currently in their surveillance van (a sleek, black Range Rover this time, to keep up appearances with the wealthy crowd) parked right besides the planned exit rendezvous point, surrounded by screens filled with live camera footage and lines of code.

They hear Jinyoung exhale a long-suffering sigh through his nose before greeting the president with a cheery, “Hello, Mr. President!”

“Thank you, Youngjae, for my life,” Jackson murmurs.

“You won’t be thanking me later,” Youngjae snaps, “when your boyfriend yells at you when we get back home after having to suppress his urge to tell you off for three hours. Now be useful and distract the Prime Minister.”

Jackson’s resigned “Yes, sir” gets lost in a peal of Yugyeom’s laughter at his hyung getting scolded.

 

 

Mark had stepped inside the vault as soon as the door opened, opting to ignore the stream of traffic in their radio to focus on the task at hand, as per usual. Jaebum tentatively follows. Youngjae hadn’t been able to find blueprints or hack into the encrypted security feed of this particular vault. Understandable considering that this is the highest security vault in the entire mansion and that they were only given three days to prepare for the mission. Typical. Jaebum is honestly surprised that Mark and Youngjae were able to figure out how to get into the corridor leading to the vault in the first place. He kind of wants to know how they were able to fake a retina scan, but then he thinks that maybe it’s better if he didn’t.

“The briefcase you guys are looking for is black leather. According to the footage we have of the handoff, the briefcase should also have the Presidential Standard imprinted onto the front, just like the replica we gave you.”

“You have access to the security cameras now, right?” Jaebum double checks.

“Yup. Got it when Mark-hyung stepped inside. Really, you’d think they’d be better at concealing the transmission signal so it’s harder to hack into!” And before Youngjae can begin another one of his security lectures, filled with too many technical terms for the majority of their team to even begin to comprehend, Jaebum cuts him off, “Not everyone is a genius like you, Youngjae-ah.”

Youngjae grumbles a bit more, but Jaebum can tell that he’s pleased by the compliment. A few moments and a lot of typing noises later, Youngjae tells them, “I’m pretty sure I’ve disabled all of the alarms in the vault, so you guys should be free to walk around without triggering anything now.”

Mark and Jaebum fan out into the open space. Harsh, fluorescent lights illuminate the steel floors of the industrial vault. The walls are also the same shining silver, lined with cabinets and indented with bookshelves. Every few feet or so, a pedestal protrudes from the ground, showcasing various jewels or historic documents of importance—a collector’s dream. It’s funny that there isn’t greater security where all of the valuable items are stored. Or, well, Youngjae disabled everything easily enough, but Youngjae _is_ a certified genius, so there’s that.

Walking around the space with Mark is almost like visiting a museum with a friend. ( _Almost like a cute date or something_ , his mind supplies helpfully. He wills it to shut the hell up.) It would even be peaceful if Jaebum weren’t reminded of the reason why they were here every time he glanced over at Mark and saw the guns and daggers in holsters and bulletproof vest. Jaebum wonders idly to himself how some members of their team still manage to look angelic with deadly weapons attached to every inch of their body.

“Ah, Jaebum, I’ve found it,” he hears Mark call. Through his earpiece, Jaebum also makes out the sound of Youngjae trying to cover up a laugh with a cough. Jaebum snaps out of whatever half-formed fantasy his mind was wandering to with a blush and walks in the direction of Mark’s voice.

It’s kind of underwhelming, when Jaebum goes to the pedestal to look at the briefcase they’re supposed to extract. It literally is just a black, leather suitcase embossed with the Presidential Standard. Their other missions are generally more exciting: they’ve had to recover gems, find stolen paintings, retrieve Academy assets (aka, someone’s been kidnapped or compromised and needs to be extracted), the works. So this is just entirely anticlimactic.

Actually, this entire op is strange. It should be easy—two, three members max, unless you’re newbies. The wheels have been turning in Jaebum’s head ever since they got this assignment. Why did they need the whole 7-person team? The only reason they have Jackson and Jinyoung out there distracting people while Bambam and Yugyeom bug the place is precisely because there are more agents on the ground than there should be.

It’s strange, also, because Mark has been acting a little bit more… subdued? Anxious? Wary, is probably the right word, or concerned. Throughout the day, he keeps reminding the members to _be careful_ , which 1) is usually Jaebum’s job 2) shouldn’t be necessary for this op. Jaebum isn’t sure whether to chalk it up to the conversation they had about Mark taking more responsibility as the oldest member of the team or if Mark knows something that the rest of them don’t that’s making him act like this. Jaebum doesn’t think anybody else has noticed, but he’s made it his job to know his team like the back of his hand—their mannerisms, living patterns, pet peeves, you name it; everything is in neat little categories in Jaebum’s head. Plus, it’s Mark and Mark always gets a little special attention from Jaebum (not that he’ll ever admit it out loud).

“I’ve disabled the security system,” Youngjae’s voice crackles through comms, “you guys can just… take it now.”

The tone of his voice raises at the end, almost as if in question. It’s nearly too easy, as Jaebum lifts the glass case and Mark simply removes the briefcase from where it rests. Once it’s in Mark’s hands, Jaebum knows the only two ways Mark and that briefcase will separate are either if something with the force of a small explosion forces their separation or if Mark wants to let go. It’s partially due to the fact that weaved throughout their gloves are magnetic wires strong enough to penetrate through the leather of the briefcase handle to the underlying metal structure underneath (they know this because it unlocks when it recognizes a fingerprint and you can’t exactly do that without metal). But it’s mostly due to the fact that it’s Mark, and Mark would rather die than fuck up an op.

Mark glances at Jaebum once the briefcase is hanging by his side. _This was too easy_ , the glance says, _something isn’t right here_. Jaebum can’t help but agree. He’s half expecting something to go wrong as he places the replica briefcase on the pedestal, but no alarms go off and no hired hitmen come rushing at them, so all he does is shrug.

Gingerly, they make their way back to the vault entrance. Mark walks in front of Jaebum, idly swinging the briefcase back and forth as Jaebum updates their team, “We have the briefcase. Head to the evacuation point now.”

There are about eight seconds of reprieve, when they hear four affirmative hums from everyone else on the ground and the chatter of Jackson and Jinyoung making excuses to exit the banquet hall, before they hear Youngjae shout, “Bambam! Yugyeom! Watch out behind you!”

“Goddammit,” Bambam curses softly, and that’s the last thing they hear that isn't accompanied by gunshots.

Mark breaks into a sprint and if Jaebum weren’t hardwired to anticipate and react to his members’ actions, he would’ve been left in the dust in ten seconds flat.

They’re still en route to the evacuation point, but then Youngjae’s voice comes in again, “Guys, armed guards are coming from everywhere right now! They must’ve been hiding out in the rooms we decided we didn’t need camera surveillance for!”

The pace at which they’re running doesn’t slow, but Mark turns back to look at Jaebum. There’s a question in his eyes that Jaebum understands, grimly nodding before relaying the orders to the rest of the team, “Jackson, Jinyoung, partner up before evac, just in case.” Bambam and Yugyeom don’t need the order; it would’ve been redundant for them since they’re each other’s partners, after all.

You see, the field agents in each team get trained in pairs, always pairs. Of course, the dynamic of the entire team is important, but the pairs of agents train together as a unit outside of the team for years. The pairs are always similar, but vastly different at the same time: Mark and Jackson share similar backgrounds (they both grew up speaking English and Chinese, and they are both well known at the Academy for being prodigies), but have staggeringly different personalities; Jaebum and Jinyoung had been attached at the hip since they entered the Academy together, despite their different temperaments; Bambam and Yugyeom seem to think and act with one mind, even though their initial training and expertise have nothing to do with each other. “Unity and harmony through contrasts and chaos,” or something along those lines that is as equally cliché.

The partners get customized training regimens with special combinations of formations and weaponry dependencies that exist only for their particular skill sets. They are so familiar with these formations that the simple quirk of a finger is enough to signal which combination should be used. So, in times of unexpected circumstance such as this, where other agencies might deem it the best course of action to maintain whatever units have been created at the start of the mission, JYP Academy agents partner up. It’s worth the few seconds or minutes it takes for them to regroup because the efficiency of their teams always increases when everyone is with their partner.

“We heard the gunshots from downstairs. They’re trying to evacuate the building, but everyone’s panicking,” Jinyoung reports.

“It’s so chaotic,” comes Jackson’s voice, “but it’s good for us because we’ll just slip out. Mark, meet me near the East side staircase, okay? It’s where I’m closer to.”

Mark’s “Got it” is immediately following by Jinyoung saying, “Jackson and I took opposite sides to cover as much as the party as possible, so I’ll be at the West side staircase.”

Jaebum grunts an affirmative. He and Mark are almost at the main corridor now, where the long, narrow hall leading up to the vault widens out to the rest of the mansion. Mark looks back one more time, before they need to branch off. His mouth begins to open, like he’s about to speak, but he snaps it shut again. He flashes Jaebum a half-smile instead, then makes a sharp turn to where he’s supposed to meet Jackson.

Jaebum’s going to overthink this for the entirety of the foreseeable future, he _knows_ he will, but the why-did-Mark-smile-weirdly-and-maybe-kind-of-sadly-at-me-related gears in his head grind to a halt as he turns as well, only to met by a wave of security.

With a resigned sigh, Jaebum reaches for the iron baton strapped to his back. He knew the simplicity of this mission was too good to be true.

 

 

Over the years, the thing that Jaebum has come to appreciate most about combat is the liquidity of time. He and Jinyoung are in the middle of formation seventeen and it could have been seconds from when Jaebum roundhouse kicked the first security guard off the side of the staircase rail, but it also could have been days.

They’ve almost managed to clear themselves a path to the back entrance, where Youngjae is in the Range Rover waiting for them, except for these last three guards.

Jaebum makes sure Jinyoung can see his left hand before tilting it thirty degrees parallel to the floor. He doesn’t need to see the short nod of Jinyoung’s head to know that his partner has gotten the message, but the reassurance is nice regardless.

The first thing Jaebum needs to do is retreat a little bit—just enough so that when he shoots the guard that looks to be approximately 5’11 and of medium build, the guard will experience enough recoil to stagger backwards in Jinyoung’s direction, but not to die (on principle, they aim for as few deaths as possible).

Jaebum does exactly that. Thankfully, the two other guards rush to follow Jaebum while his target corners Jinyoung. It’s always amusing when things like this work perfectly. Jaebum doesn’t even need to lose as much ground as he thought he would before aiming a shot at the guard’s back.

In no time at all, Jinyoung has his garrote neatly wound around the guard’s neck and holds it taut with his left hand, while his right hand aims a tranquilizer gun.

Meanwhile, Jaebum lunges to his right first and dodges a swing aimed for his unprotected face before aiming a left hook at the guard’s stomach. For the split second the guard is doubled over, Jaebum slams his baton against the sliver of exposed neck between the helmet and the bulletproof vest. The guard hits the floor and Jaebum quickly switches out his baton for a dagger. Daggers (and other, various throwable pointy things) are Mark’s weapon of choice, not his, but he’ll need something sharp if he wants to cut that stupid vest off so Jinyoung’s tranquilizing darts will actually penetrate skin.

He sees the last guard’s leg aimed for a shin-kick, so he lets it happen. It’s the momentum Jaebum needs the guard to have to be swung around, back facing Jaebum, vest exposed. Jaebum catches himself on his free hand and flips back into standing position. He’s still within arm’s reach of the guard so he simply makes two quick, parallel slashes from the ends of the vest’s neck hole to the bottom of the fabric, thanking whoever in their lab designed knives that can cut through Kevlar like butter.

As soon as the rectangle of Kevlar falls away enough for there to be space, Jinyoung shoots. The next second, a dart is sticking out of the guard’s back; the second after, the piece of Kevlar falls to the floor; and the second after _that_ , the guard collapses on the floor as well.

Jaebum runs to meet Jinyoung, who releases his garrote’s choke hold and stores it away. They turn towards the rendezvous point, smirking at each other when they hear the thud of the guard’s unconscious body against the ground.

“Twelve minutes,” Bambam muses when they climb into the Range Rover, “not bad.”

“Didn’t beat our nine minutes, though,” Yugyeom teases as he and Bambam high-five over Youngjae’s head.

Jinyoung rolls his eyes with a “Shut up, you guys didn’t have to regroup” and Jaebum thwacks them both upside the head.

He ignores the whines coming from their two youngest in favor of asking, “Where are Mark and Jackson? How are they doing?”

Youngjae’s eyes are trained on his screens, on the one screen that has access to the cameras of the East staircase, and his voice is severe when he answers, “They sent a little over twice as many people for them as for you guys. It’s not going too great.”

“They what?!”

All amusement is vacuumed out of the Range Rover as five pairs of eyes train themselves on the video feed Youngjae points towards. Only then does the buzz of activity from Mark and Jackson’s end of their comms register in Jaebum’s brain. In the adrenaline of his own combat, he always tunes out everyone else’s radio traffic. Now, he wishes he hadn’t.

The Jackson on screen aims a swift kick at someone’s neck as they hear him say, “God,” he punches someone else’s nose in, “ _fucking_ ,” he elbows yet another person in the chest, “ _DAMNIT_.” They watch as three people fall in a ring around Jackson, whose voice has come in out of breath and positively _furious_.

“This is _so_ not fair! Why did they send literally everyone after us?”

Mark, of course, doesn’t respond with words. They see him let daggers _fly_ , six at once, landing in the left and right hands of three separate guards, rendering them absolutely useless. Jaebum winces at the sight.

“Wait, Mark, one of them is trying to throw a dagger at you from behind! Duck!”

Jaebum watches anxiously as Mark drops to the floor. He only breathes again once he sees that Mark is safe. But then, that same dagger comes closer and closer to the camera before the screen cuts to black, cutting off their video feed.

“ _Fuck!_ ” Youngjae curses at the same time Jackson laughs, “What the hell kind of aim was that?”

“Gaga, there are too many of them,” Mark’s voice is soft (to avoid guards hearing his words, everyone knows), but rushed, “I’m gonna throw the grenades and just get this over with. Find cover and tell me when you’re clear.”

“And we didn’t do this sooner, why?”

Jaebum almost wishes he were there, so he could whack Jackson, even though he knows the complaint is an attempt at humor and isn’t real.

“You and I both know that there was no _space_ for you to find _any_ cover before, you dipshit, just _go_!”

“You’re my partner, you should be nicer to me,” they hear Jackson whine and Jaebum seriously considers snapping at Jackson to shut up and stop stressing Mark out so much when his voice comes in again, “I’m all set.”

“Got it. Don’t wait for the smoke to clear, just run towards evac after the blasts. I’ll be behind you.”

“Yessir!”

“Alright, ready? 3… 2… 1…” is all the warning they get before being subject to the most deafening roar of explosions they have had the unfortunate pleasure of hearing. Jaebum genuinely worries that he’s gone deaf afterwards because he can’t hear _anything_ from Mark and Jackson’s comms.

“Fuck, the grenades must’ve blown out their mics,” Youngjae mutters.

“All we can do is wait now,” Jaebum states as he settles into a chair, “they’re Mark and Jackson. They should be here soon.”

 

 

And wait, they do. It should only take about 80 seconds to get from the East staircase to the rendezvous point, but it’s already passing minute five and there’s still no sign of Mark and Jackson.

“Where are they? It shouldn’t be taking this long. They’re Mark and Jackson, for Christ’s sake!”

“Maybe the grenades blew out the staircase and they just need to dig through some debris,” Jinyoung attempts to console, “just trust that they’ll be okay.”

The youngest three have been eerily silent, each of them a bundle of nerves waiting for their hyungs to come back, and it doesn’t sit well with Jaebum.

This whole situation doesn’t sit well with Jaebum. Those are his _teammates_ ; he should be _in there_ , but his team is also in the Range Rover and he has to take care of them, too. What if something terrible has happened to them, but they can’t reach him because their comms are out? Was today the last time he would’ve been able to talk to them? What was Mark going to say to him?

With each second that ticks by, Jaebum’s worries coil themselves tighter in the pit of his stomach, until he can’t take it anymore.

He springs up from his seat and moves to get out of the car, to go back into the building to check on Mark and Jackson. He’s barely taken a step when, suddenly, the door bursts open.

It’s Jackson. His clothes are charred, he’s pretty bruised up, and a gash on his shoulder has stained his clothes red, but he’s _here_.

Jaebum doesn’t even get the chance to exhale a sigh of relief before Jackson stutters, “Mark…. He’s…. He’s gone.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how SICK is it that spy!au is one of my faves and now markbum will have TWO chaptered spy au fics!! (at least that i'm aware of... and if you haven’t been reading [there’s no place for us in fairytales](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14071173/chapters/32417421) by the one and only iridescentjaebum, then whAT have you been doing??)
> 
> this fic was vaguely inspired by the gallagher girls series, as well as by the got7 fic [freefall](https://symmetrophobic.livejournal.com/12380.html) by symmetrophobic!
> 
> HOWEVER, this is going to be a shit fic bc i can’t write action scenes but i already have a 10 page outline and if i don’t write the fic i planned out, then nobody else will, so I’M SORRY IN ADVANCE for 1) poorer quality writing 2) vERY slow updates (again… like even slower than [loves me, loves me not](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12598860/chapters/28697720) probably but i wanted to get this first chapter out to reassure everyone that i’m Not Dead)
> 
> yeah, speaking of, i deactivated my twitter to focus on school, but you can still reach me on curiouscat ([@rewindmp3](https://curiouscat.me/rewindmp3))!!


	2. paradox

They’re quiet on the helicopter for all of six minutes before Yugyeom is near shouting, “What do you mean _gone_? He’s Mark Tuan! He doesn’t just _get kidnapped_!”

The mood in the air is somber. When Jackson broke the news, the van was dead silent, save for the whirring of Youngjae’s computers and the distant voice of someone at HQ over the radio telling them to expect evac in two minutes.

They pile into the helicopter, Jaebum bringing up the rear to make sure nobody _else_ has been left behind. Nobody knows what to do or say. The other agents don’t comment on it and Jaebum is grinding his teeth so hard his jaw is getting sore. He glues his eyes to the floor so nobody on his team needs to bear the brunt of his angry glare. Only when Yugyeom makes his outburst does Jaebum lift his head to cast a sweeping glance across his teammates.

Jinyoung puts his hand on Yugyeom’s shoulder, a gesture that means many things at once: we feel the same way; calm down a bit; we’re missing one, but the rest of us are still here with you, available to you. Yugyeom is clearly distraught, Bambam only slightly less so. Youngjae looks incredibly upset as he wrings his hands, a nervous twitch that means he wants to do _something_ , but it at a loss about where to begin. And Jackson? Jackson looks heartbroken and furious and guilty and ashamed all at once. Jackson usually becomes grounded by contact and Jaebum wants to reach out, to give him a hug or even rest a hand on Jackson’s shoulder as Jinyoung did to Yugyeom. But right now, Jackson looks like a livewire, one touch and the electric current of his emotions will explode.

Thus, Jaebum refrains himself and tries to live up to the leader position he was bestowed by assessing the situation.

Yugyeom’s indignant exclamation was certainly warranted. Mark is their ace, their secret weapon. On a physical, technical level, Mark is deadly precise with almost any weapon he can get his hands on, is highly trained in acrobatics and martial arts, and has unparalleled speed. It’s why the majority of their missions have him sprinting from one end of a building to the next—he’s the only one who could possibly make it work. In terms of Mark’s mental prowess, he’s observant and smart, calculating yet reactive and quick-thinking. He even has a megawatt smile that charms everyone he talks to, even though he isn’t the most comfortable with taking care of niceties.

Hell, Jaebum has seen Mark escape a room locked from the outside after being gagged, blindfolded, and tied to a chair in under 15 minutes. When agents-in-training turn 16, any level of assessment for any of their classes are open to the rest of the Academy to witness, as the added pressure of dozens of eyes helps prepare for the stress of real missions. It was the first assessment Mark took when he turned 16 and, to this day, he still holds the record for the shortest time to escape, despite the fact that everyone was able to see how he did it.

So yeah, Mark doesn’t just _get caught_.

Jaebum starts to think, then, _hard_ , about what could’ve happened and how whoever the fuck those guards were managed to slip Mark away.

Could they have gassed him? But when would they have had the time to do that? And if that were the case, Jackson would’ve been affected, too, since they were together until the smoke cleared. Even if they had, Mark could’ve held his breath long enough to escape. The entire team, the entire Academy, had seen him do it.

Could they have something that he wants and would destroy if he didn’t go with him? But what would he want that the team wouldn’t know about? It’s hard for them to keep secrets from each other. They’re together almost all hours of the day and the company monitors them pretty closely. As annoying as it is, they have to, in order to make sure that secrets don’t fall in the hands of the wrong people and to make sure their agents are safe. Or, as safe as they can be.

Could they have threatened someone Mark cares about? Honestly, Mark could probably have an entire team wiped out if they threatened someone that important to him. The thing about Mark is that he holds his cards so close to his chest that Jaebum isn’t even sure who those people could be. He wasn’t told much about Mark’s past, when he was handed files on all of his teammates, on all of the people he would have to figure out how to lead. All Jaebum really knows is that most, if not all, of Mark’s family is dead. The only people Jaebum thinks that have any sway over Mark now are them. The team. GOT7. Maybe Jaebum more so than most, because he’s the leader, or maybe Jackson because he’s Mark’s partner, or maybe Yugyeom because Mark dotes on him the most, or maybe…. No. Jaebum can’t do this to himself. Won’t do this. Won’t try to figure out the team’s order of importance to Mark in the vain hope that he’ll be first because that isn’t fair. He knows they’re all special to Mark in different ways, knows that Mark has a category and a special place in his heart for each member that nobody else can touch.

Before he realizes it, they’re back. The familiar wrought iron gates of the estate disguising itself as a school for elite teenagers come into view through the clouds and while Jaebum usually feels a sense of comfort and relief seeing the sprawling grounds, he feels nothing but nauseous as they make their landing.

He feels Jinyoung’s hand on his shoulder once they’re all safely unfastened from their seats. The smile his partner offers him is meant to be comforting, but Jaebum can see the sadness, the melancholy and regret. He’s sure he looks the same.

 

 

Walking through the grounds to get to the debriefing room is nostalgic.

Jaebum never really noticed it before, the amount of memories even a square inch of space can hold. He usually doesn’t need to reminisce or long for the past when they arrive. He usually has a full team behind his back, laughing and messing with each other, creating a ruckus and waving at agents-in-training, yelling out encouragements and offering up pointers if they notice quickly enough on their walk.

Here’s the thing about JYP.

First and foremost, it is a school. The Academy portion of JYP trains intelligence agents that get fed into worldwide organizations like NIS, CIA, MI6, and beyond. The Academy masks itself as an elite boarding school, and because admissions are by invitation only, most people think the students at JYP Academy are the sons and daughters of nameless billionaires, so stuck up they’re only comfortable mingling with each other.

What most of the global population does not understand about the school is that it is one of the most rigorous operative training programs in South Korea. Their graduates are skilled, their teaching staff even more so, and it takes a legacy of parents in intelligence agencies and/or displayed near genius to be let into their world.

Separate from the school is JYP Agency.

Most graduates of the Academy tend to favor matriculating into their parents’ or their home country’s intelligence agencies. However, if there is a group of people in the Academy that forms, regardless of the grades they span, they can apply to work as a team. If they’re accepted, if they’ve demonstrated that they can be a powerful, cohesive unit, once all members of the team graduate, they can pursue active field work as seen fit by JYP.

So it’s rare, special, the bond that GOT7 have with each other.

Even one person missing on the happiest of days (like if someone is sick and can’t make a celebratory dinner) feels like a loss.

This? This feels like death.

The aura around the six members is grim. The agents in training don’t dare to approach them like they normally do, especially once they notice that Mark—Mark, who will buy them meals and drinks out of his own pocket, who will stay up late to help them supervise practice, who has a kind smile and a stable hand in the worst times—is gone.

If the higher ups notice the shift in mood (and they definitely notice), they don’t acknowledge it at all.

Debriefing happens as it normally does. When Jaebum has to report, in front of this panel of agents and his team, that one of his members has gone missing in action, it feels like rocks are stuck in his throat and he has to grind the words out. When he has to say the same thing again, during individual debriefing, he feels worse.

The blank, poker-faced stares of his superiors doesn’t help and neither does seeing the loss reflected in the faces of his members. Jackson looks _pissed_ , but Jaebum knows it’s a front for the all-consuming guilt that Jackson feels, and the frustration that he can’t go back in time to change what happened. Jinyoung looks composed, but Jaebum knows him too well to be fooled; he recognizes the glazed over, vacant stare that Jinyoung adopts when he’s deep in his own head, thinking. Youngjae looks like he’s on the verge of tears; he and Mark didn’t start off particularly close, but the bond that they formed over time, Jaebum knows, has become incredibly important to Youngjae. Bambam is antsy; he deals with stress and anger head-on and the fact that someone took Mark, who Bambam treats like a literal older brother, Korean age hierarchies be damned, away from them and there’s nobody he can confront is eating at him, Jaebum can tell. Yugyeom is crying; Yugyeom has been crying for a while, little sniffles interrupted by hiccups to clear his throat, and the sight breaks Jaebum’s heart because their youngest has always been emotive, has always stuck to Mark, his obvious favorite hyung, like glue, and doesn’t have him to hold onto anymore.

Jaebum takes one look at his team, takes one look at the way their faces crumple in distraught, takes an introspective look at the way his heart feels like it’s freezing over, and swears that he’ll find out who did this, if it’s the last thing he does.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a smaller, kind of filler chapter that was supposed to be bigger but i ended up moving something in here to the next chapter so... sorry about that


	3. revelation

They’re notified a few days later that their mission was considered a success. Jaebum kind of wants to spit on whoever decided that.

Just because they received the briefcase, just because they verified that the information they expected to find in the files wasn’t bugged or corrupt, just because they got what they needed, the mission was successful?

Usually, this doesn’t happen. Both the “GOT7 losing a member on a mission” thing and the “JYP has deemed a mission successful in spite of the team losing a member” thing. Granted, JYP agents don’t tend to go missing, either, but that makes it even more strange to Jaebum that every time he asks one of their superiors about Mark, about whether they’ve made any progress in searching for him, the answers they give Jaebum are vague at best.

“We’re doing the best we can,” they say. “If they’re hiding Mark, they’re doing it well,” they say. _You’re all a bunch of fucking liars_ , Jaebum thinks.

It’s like they aren’t even concerned with Mark’s safety at all.

It doesn’t stop the members from doing everything they can to find out more.

Admittedly, it’s a bit difficult. They can’t do anything too serious in terms of their search without clearing their plans with HQ first, and it’s hard to do much under the radar given how closely they’re monitored, but still, they manage.

Youngjae, the resident technology expert, spent the first few days after Mark went missing trying to get a read on his GPS tracker. They’re all required to wear one during assignments, helping not only the agency keep a record of their movements, but Youngjae as well, who is more often than not their handler during missions and relies on the GPS monitoring to tell them where to go and how to get out.

Lady Fortuna does not seem to be on their side. Youngjae hasn’t had any luck tracking Mark down. It seems like when his comms units were blown out, his GPS signal was disrupted as well. Youngjae’s even tried hacking into competing organizations’ files, but he can’t find Mark anywhere. The best he’s been able to do is extract the feed of various police-placed street cameras in the hopes that Mark will appear on one of them. But Mark’s captors are good. They’re good enough to have taken him in the first place, so they’re good enough to know where the cameras are and how to avoid being seen.

Bambam and Yugyeom help Youngjae out in any way that they can, going into JYP’s archives in one of the sublevel basements, reading file after file about JYP’s history to see if anyone has a vendetta against their agency that would make a JYP agent a target.

Jaebum has been tasked with going through Mark’s things.

His initial job, as the leader, was to hound everyone in a position of power at the agency about Mark. After one too many times of his temper getting the better of him and snapping at their superiors when they didn’t tell him what he wanted to hear, that job has now been delegated to Jinyoung. There’s always been something about the way that Jinyoung talks to people—calming voice, prince reputation, eye crinkles, and all—that makes them want to acquiesce. This time, even Jinyoung has found it difficult to get information.

So, yeah. Jaebum meticulously looks through Mark’s belongings, looks at everything he left behind in his room because he thought he was coming back, and feels a dull ache in his chest.

Mark doesn’t have very many possessions. Jaebum isn’t necessarily surprised. It fits who Mark is as a person, minimal and laidback, and it’s not like Jaebum hasn’t come into Mark’s room before. When Jaebum shuffles through Mark’s wardrobe, his desk, his shelves, everything is put away with the same order his room appears to be when you first step in. The clothes in his drawers are folded crisply, no signs of a man in his mid-twenties blindly ruffling through his shirts in the dark, awake at a too-early time with a half-off brain.

The stark, almost military neatness is a contrast to the way the bookshelf Jaebum shares with Jinyoung is overflowing, or the way Jackson’s room has various tidbits and letters from home tucked into every corner, or the way Bambam’s closet bursts at the seams with clothes he rarely gets to wear.

Without Mark’s presence there, his room seems liminal. It doesn’t feel lived in, doesn’t feel like a home, lacks any indication of real permanence and the implication twists Jaebum’s heart in a tight, unpleasant way.

It goes without saying that Jaebum doesn’t find many leads while looking through Mark’s stuff. They don’t have many secrets between each other, anyway, and most of what they would’ve attempted to keep hidden is already in their files. Mark’s file, like his room, is also bare, up until he joined the Academy. Jaebum had always chalked it up to the fact that his parents may have been high-level field agents who were killed on a mission Jaebum doesn’t have the clearance to know about. It’s not like someone’s past matters all that much when you’ve already grown to understand the person they are now, so Jaebum had respected and accepted the mystery of Mark’s life prior to entering the Academy. Now, though, Jaebum wishes he knew more, wishes he had something more concrete to hold onto.

 

 

For all that Jaebum feels towards Mark, even though he refuses to call his crush the four-letter word it has most certainly developed into over the years, even though everybody knows about his barely-a-secret, he’s still GOT7’s leader. He’s their oldest hyung now as well, and the thought is something that he hates. He has to keep it together for the five other boys relying on him.

For all that Jaebum misses Mark like a phantom limb and feels his absence like a roundhouse kick to the throat, it’s Jackson whose behavior is the most worrying.

Monitoring him is Jinyoung’s second, though more unofficial, task.

Jackson disappears for hours on end, searching, hoping. He never tells the rest of the boys when he leaves, always early in the morning before anybody else is awake. They can’t track him, either, since his departures are never part of a formal mission and he, therefore, has no need to wear a GPS chip.

The first time it happened, Jaebum nearly had a panic attack. _This can’t be happening_ , he thought, _not again_.

Jinyoung had woken up alone, had maybe even woken up because he was alone and too used to Jackson’s warm body next to his. At first he just assumed that Jackson had gone out on a run to clear his mind, but when an hour passed without any sight of his boyfriend, Jinyoung had nearly broken down the door to Jaebum’s room to let him know he was leaving before sprinting to their entryway and jamming his feet into shoes.

Jaebum is by no means a morning person, but the manic, desperate look in Jinyoung’s eyes cut through any sort of residual haze as he scrambled out of bed and sprinted to slam their front door shut in order to prevent Jinyoung from leaving.

“It wouldn’t be productive,” he had argued. “You have no idea where he went and you leaving to go find him or leaving the apartment to go to headquarters won’t do anything either because if Jackson didn’t tell _you_ where he was going, he sure as hell wouldn’t have told them!”

Jinyoung was still keyed up and attempting to go, but Jaebum couldn’t lose sight of him, too, not the person he once not-so-jokingly said he would want to be buried next to.

“Please, Jinyoung,” he had said, “I can’t bear to think that you might be in danger, too, if you leave to go find him. We’ll wake up the others and figure something out, just don’t go.”

They had shaken Bambam and Yugyeom awake, then forcibly dragged Youngjae out of bed after a few fruitless minutes of shouting directly into his ear. They’d crowded around Youngjae’s work station, waiting anxiously for his machines to boot up. They’d watched Youngjae flip through feed after feed of police and agency planted street cameras and it almost seemed hopeless until finally, _finally_ , they saw Jackson exit one of the safe houses relatively close by.

They couldn’t contact him because he hadn’t brought anything with him aside from his weapon of choice (his brass knuckles) and three guns, but at least they knew he was still _alive_.

He didn’t come back until around dinner time, looking exhausted but, mercifully, not injured.

Jinyoung gave him an earful for worrying him and the rest of the team sick, especially with Mark still missing. Jaebum doesn’t really think Jackson heard any of it, if the faraway look in his eyes was anything to go by. Jaebum made Jackson promise to at least leave a note before pulling a stunt like that again, but he didn’t have the heart to be mad for more than two minutes.

He gets it, he really does.

People had a tendency to think that, just because Jackson was more extroverted, that it was Jackson who did Mark the favor of becoming friends and it was Jackson who enabled Mark to open up to the rest of the students in the Academy. They’d be right, in a crude sort of way, but they’d also be ignoring the fact that Mark was Jackson’s anchor.

While the Academy is known for inviting students from many countries, because of its base in Korea, the majority of the students are Korean. Mark, who had arrived a year earlier than Jackson had, was the one who helped Jackson adjust. Mark, who could speak both of Jackson’s native tongues, had helped him practice the language, had explained the cultural norms as best as he could, had comforted Jackson through bouts of homesickness, had taken Jackson under his wing, and had felt the need to take care of him because he was in a unique position to empathize with the new, eager student.

And what Mark was for Jackson, he became for the rest of their team, albeit perhaps to a lesser extent: a steady hand, a grounding presence, a comfort, a home away from home.

So, they keep looking.

 

 

It’s both miraculous and completely mundane the way a lead finally falls into their laps. Quite literally, too.

Jaebum had decided that, despite all of their anxieties, they should still uphold some decent standards of sanitation. Academy students may have a maintenance staff to clean their bathrooms, but they were already years out, living on their own and supposedly graduated adults.

He takes it upon himself to tidy up while everyone else is out. Bambam is at the Academy, deep in the lower levels of the library, trying to do more research on enemies of JYP at Youngjae’s request. Youngjae would be with him, but he’s out getting new pieces of hardware, chips that will make his machines run faster and bits and pieces for a new technology he’s been trying to develop. Yugyeom is sparring with Jinyoung in one of the Academy practice rooms and Jackson, well. Jaebum doesn’t know _exactly_ where he is, but he knows what Jackson’s doing and, if he’s really worried, he can check the GPS tracker Jackson agreed to wear.

Jaebum is currently staring at Mark’s bedsheets, deliberating.

He used to have no qualms about them, mussing them up after a nap when Mark wasn’t in their apartment, but now it seems almost sacrilege to move them. But Mark is, after all, the most tidy of all the boys. Jaebum thinks Mark would appreciate coming back to a room that isn’t covered in a thin layer of dust.

He grabs the laundry basket from where he left it on the floor in the hallway and sets it down next to Mark’s bed. He takes the comforter out of its duvet cover and drops the cover into the basket. He brings the comforter itself outside to the balcony to let it sit in the sun and when he enters Mark’s room again, he peels the fitted sheet off of the mattress and drops that into the laundry basket as well.

The last things that needs to be washed are Mark’s pillow cases. Jaebum takes one pillow out and puts it on Mark’s desk. As the second pillow comes loose from its case, something flutters out. The second pillow joins the first on Mark’s desk and its case gets dropped into the laundry basket as well. Then, Jaebum’s bending down to pick up the thing that Mark had hidden under his head.

It’s a letter. Well, it’s probably a letter. The envelope is made out of that stereotypical thick parchment paper and there’s a fucking _wax seal_ on it. It looks like a prop from the set of _Harry Potter_ , but it’s not. It’s real and in Jaebum’s hands, but before it was in Jaebum’s hands, Mark had deemed it important enough to keep and clandestine enough to hide.

The seal is already broken. Normally, Jaebum would be more mindful of respecting his members’ privacy, but he has to _know_. He opens the envelope only to find a small rectangle of paper stamped with a sequence of symbols he’s never seen before. He stuffs the letter in his pocket, knowing full well he won’t make any headway into deciphering what it says without someone’s help, and turns the envelope over, looking at it, analyzing it for clues.

There’s no form of identification anywhere on the envelope, no sender address and no recipient address either. Mark must’ve met whoever wrote this in person, but who could he have met and why? And when did he even have the time? The last few days before he disappeared, Mark spent all of his waking hours with the rest of the team. Or, that’s all that Jaebum can assume. He knows that Mark always falls asleep after Jackson does (because Mark loves sleep and sometimes it seems like Jackson is allergic to it), but he can’t say for certain if Mark stayed asleep for the whole night. There are too many unknown factors, too many random variables, too many possible events leading up to this current nightmarish one and trying to consider all of the possibilities makes Jaebum’s head hurt.

He pieces the seal back together and the image that greets him almost looks like the sun, a vague circle-looking thing with, he counts, eight rays pointing outwards. It looks vaguely familiar, but Jaebum can’t place where he thinks he’s seen it. He looks more closely at the seal and notices patterns of swirls, so intricate he can barely tell what it’s supposed to be looking at the tiny imprint on ripped wax. Four of the rays have little bits sticking out, perpendicular to the main body, but Jaebum thinks nothing of it, attributing what are probably mistakes to the imprecise nature of hot wax.

The longer he stares at it, the more aggravated he gets. Why can’t he remember where it came from? Where has he seen this stupid sun before? With more than a little displeasure at his lacking memory, Jaebum pockets the envelope, picks up the laundry basket, and waits for the rest of the boys to come home.

 

 

The last person who comes home, unsurprisingly, is Jackson. The way his face is set into a frown means that he didn’t have much success in tracking Mark again. Everyone, currently gathered in their living room, calls out greetings as Jackson takes off his shoes and Jaebum watches him out of the corner of his eye, trying to gage how frustrated he’s feeling. Jackson’s taking off some of the necklaces he always wears when he’s out when Jaebum gasps.

Five pairs of eyes whip towards him as he reaches for the envelope that had been burning a hole through his pants the whole day.

“Mark’s necklace…” Jaebum whispers.

There’s this necklace that Mark wears, sitting around his neck so often it’s become apart of the mental image Jaebum has when he pictures Mark. It’s usually tucked into Mark’s shirt, but the chain peeks out on the back of his neck above the collars of his shirts, where it most naturally rests.

The necklace is simple. A circular silver pendant hangs on a slim chain and that’s really all there is to it, but Jaebum had seen the necklace peeking out of Mark’s clothing so often that he asked about it once, when they were still agents-in-training. Most students opt to not wear any jewelry as they practice—they never know when an earring might fall out and stab through someone’s foot or when a necklace will whack them in the face as they practice hand-to-hand combat. Mark always had his necklace on, though, and Jaebum would always notice it (watching a droplet of sweat roll down Mark’s neck or in the changing rooms after practice, a blush rising to his cheeks before turning away. But he just always noticed Mark in general, so there was that, too.).

“Oh this?” Mark had answered as Jaebum leaned in closer to look, leaned in closer and saw a rose being run through by daggers, “It’s a family thing. It feels weird not to wear it, I guess.” Jaebum had nodded, had accepted the fact that Mark’s family might pass down an image that was a little violent and eccentric, had felt smug that Mark had revealed something about his life before the Academy and filed the information away.

In the present, Jaebum hands the envelope to Youngjae, explaining to the team how he had found it today and what was inside. Jackson had moved from the entryway to the couch in a flash, and, as one of their resident language experts, is currently staring at the letter in concentration. A moment after Jaebum finishes his story, Jackson states, “This is a mix of archaic languages.”

“You recognize this?”

“Not enough to know what it says, but enough to recognize where the characters come from. We studied this in one of the advanced code-breaking classes. It looks like Sumerian and Akkadian and…. Is that archaic Chinese?”

“I’m sure the Agency’s database has records of archaic language texts,” Youngjae says as he stands up. “Let me run this through a program really quickly. We should know what it says in a bit.”

Youngjae exits the room and Jinyoung asks, loud enough for Youngjae to still hear, “Do we tell HQ about this?”

Jaebum, as the leader, should probably the most meticulous about reporting these things to their superiors. It’s usually better for everyone’s safety and, generally, if HQ thinks this lead is worth looking into, the resources to which the team has access increases dramatically. This time, all he thinks is: _Fuck them and their incompetence and unwillingness to look for Mark. Seriously, fuck them._

“No,” he responds, “we’ll keep this to ourselves for now.” He looks up at Jinyoung, who nods back at him, and he looks at the boys who have become his brothers and sees the same understanding, the same steely resolve to find their own when nobody else seems to want to.

Youngjae re-enters the room a few moments later, a couple sheets of paper in his hand. He drops the packet on the coffee table and everyone crowds around him as he points to the first page, the one with the translation, a short sentence and a series of numbers.

There’s a sharp intake of breath as everyone recognizes the numbers for what they actually are.

“Chaos lives in order. 171010.”

October 10, 2017. The day of their mission. The day Mark disappeared.

 

Mark knew.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we’ll see if i can get a chapter up every 3 weeks or so, but absolutely no promises because i’m me and i suck!


	4. betrayal

There’s an increased sense of urgency now that they’ve mostly confirmed that Mark knew something was going to happen the day of their mission.

Youngjae has been running the crest through different databases, but he can’t seem to find a hit. It’s difficult when all they have are pieces of memories, images of Mark and his necklace, and a broken, imprecise wax seal.

It’s like the higher-ups know that they’re immersed in their own project because the assignments and meetings suddenly stop and they see some of the younger, rookie teams scrambling around the Agency, looking scared but so incredibly determined.

They realize a few days later that running the crest through modern databases was never going to help them.

Jaebum is with Youngjae in his tech room. He’s sitting slightly behind and to the right of Youngjae, who’s pointing at something on his screen, and there’s a sketchbook in his lap, a pencil in his hand. He’s been trying to draw the rose pierced with daggers for the upteenth time, in the vain hope that a more accurate image will finally yield a match with something, _anything_.

Youngjae is in the middle of a word when the door bursts open, causing both of them to flinch.

It’s Jinyoung and he’s got a near-manic look in his eyes and a very old-looking, very thick book tucked under one of his arms.

They turn towards him in shock and Jinyoung sounds breathless as he says, “I’ve found it. I’ve found the seal.”

It’d been a hunch on Jinyoung’s part, after the team had spend so much effort looking in electronic databases without any reward. If Youngjae couldn’t find it, there was very little chance that the information was available where they thought it should be. So, he shifted his attention and started digging through the Agency’s paper archives, files and books stored in climate-controlled rooms to avoid disintegration, treasure troves of information centuries old.

Seals are an old tradition, a legacy of great and ancient families. Jinyoung tried looking through histories of well-known operatives (well-known in covert operations’ history books, but hidden to everyone else), but that method, too, seemed to be fruitless.

He thought about the seal itself. What had they thought it to be upon first glance? A sun with eight rays? More simply, a circle with eight arrows pointing out of it? And he remembered one of the things that Youngjae had found in their first pass of searching for the seal was in 1970s England: the Sigil of Chaos, symbol of chaos magic, from the philosophy of artist and occultist Austin Osman Spare. And another hit, again, from 1970s England: Michael Moorcock's _Eternal Champion_ stories. They had written these results off as useless and ignored them for being strange cultural, science fiction trends, but Jinyoung thought about the letter and what if it actually did mean something? Chaos?

What do they know the seal to be? A rose with four daggers run through it. Roses mean something different for every color they come it: red for love, yellow for friendship, lavender for enchantment, white for unity.

That’s when the pieces started to come together. White roses for unity, daggers running through the rose for the death of it. And isn’t it Jackson who grimaces at the number four because its pronunciation in Mandarin sounds like “death”?

Maybe that’s what the seal is: a symbol for people who desire chaos.

Tentatively, Jinyoung had asked a librarian if there were any books or even any legends about an ancient group of people whose goal was to cause destruction and disunity. Their librarians are scholars, historians. They are some of the keepers of the covert operation world’s oldest, most well-protected secrets, and it just so happens that the one Jinyoung had directed his question to smiled and launched into a myth of one such organization.

They call their organization 乱世  _Luanshi_ . Meaning? The world in chaos. They are as old as Ming China, when the dynasties-long pattern of eunuchs and state ministers quarreling with each other and sowing discord within the court became formalized, embodied by a group of people whose sole purpose was to infiltrate governments in order to break them. The original members used the Voyages of Zheng He to recruit others and, in time, _Luanshi_ has come to focus on government intelligence agencies, tearing them apart from the inside and creating chaos in the process.

“Most people think it’s a myth,” the librarian had said while beckoning Jinyoung to follow, “but most people just haven’t looked hard enough.” They had weaved through bookshelves and descended several sets of stairs before the librarian had halted and lifted a hand to point at the book Jinyoung had immediately checked out and lugged home.

In front of an enraptured audience of five, Jinyoung opens to a page and they don’t even need to know ancient Chinese to see, plain as day, a rose run through with daggers. Jackson’s practiced eyes flit over the words as he translates the text for them and when he’s done, they stare at each other in wonderment and confusion.

Why would Mark have things in his possession affiliated with _Luanshi_?

 

 

It is at this point Jaebum decides that they need to tell _somebody_ about what they’ve found. If Mark’s been kidnapped—and had possibly been threatened before his kidnapping—by a group over half a millenia old, their superiors should _know_.

Meeting with the head of the Agency, Jaebum has learned from experience, is essentially a skill in appearing at his office at the right time. Luckily, it’s a skill all the leaders have seemed to master.

“It’s kind of creepy how you have his schedule memorized like this,” Bambam comments idly the next day, when they’re gathered outside the door of his office waiting, Jaebum has informed them, for the Director to finish his morning rounds and grab breakfast.

“You try getting personal signatures from him for every single mission plan,” Jaebum grumbles.

As if on cue, the Director walks up to his office door, looking surprised but offering them a warm smile. He ushers them inside and they fill up the couches, everybody filled with too much nervous energy to sit back and just relax properly. There’s usually some preamble to these meetings, some small talk about how each person has been recently and how the team has been operating as a whole, but the Director senses the tenseness in the air and simply asks, “What can I do for you boys?”

The floodgates open. Once Jaebum starts talking, he can’t stop. He knows he’s rushing, some of his words running together in his haste, but he needs to make sure that all of the information is in the open. The Director’s face itself looks neutral, but Jaebum has had so many one-on-ones with his boss that he can tell there’s some astonishment and surprise and what’s been laid out. Jaebum finishes with, “So, we don’t know what Mark’s relationship with _Luanshi_ is. We don’t know if he found out about them by himself somehow, managed to piss them off, and gotten himself kidnapped, or….”

Jaebum trails off at the end, unwilling to entertain the idea of the significantly less savory option as to why Mark may have known about _Luanshi_. None of the boys have actually verbalized the other outcome, despite the fact that everyone understands what it could be. Speaking the words out loud makes it more real, after all.

Except they, apparently, don’t have a say in the matter because once Jaebum’s voice peters out, the Director’s expression hardens and he says the words _nobody_ wanted or expected to hear: “Quite frankly, I’m stunned that you boys managed to find out about _Luanshi_ , but as you guys may have pieced together, they are an incredibly dangerous group. The operatives within the Agency who know about their existence have that knowledge on a very limited, need-to-know basis. Anyone else knowing poses an extreme security threat to not only our Agency, but those we work with as well. Unfortunately, we have suspicions that Mark may have been a double agent for _Luanshi_. We believe he may have planned his disappearance with them the day of your team’s last mission because he was needed on a different assignment. We think whoever gives orders in _Luanshi_ decided his time with the Agency was over, and they orchestrated Mark—and, by extension, anyone Mark was with at the time—facing off with a significantly larger wave of security than the rest of you guys in order to make his leave more believable.”

The dead silence that washes over the room is suffocating. Jaebum’s gaze drops from meeting the Director’s eyes to his lap, where his hands are clasped tightly together and his knuckles have turned white with the progression of the Director’s spiel.

Youngjae breaks the silence, “So that’s… that’s why you guys haven’t really been looking for him.” His voice is small, and Jaebum can hear the tremble in his words, a telltale sign that Youngjae is trying not to cry.

Jaebum’s still staring at his hands, his muscles tense and heart hammering. He doesn’t want to believe that this is true, that _any_ of it is true. He trained by Mark’s side for years. And after training, they had worked together for years already. Mark had never attempted to derail a mission, had never even tried to pitch dumb ideas during meetings to get a laugh out of everyone. Wouldn’t he do that if he were part of _Luanshi_? Isn’t that _Luanshi_ ’s goal? It can’t be true.

They had gotten to know one another, had come to _trust_ one another. The same is true for the rest of the boys on the team. Jaebum would die for any one of them and he _knows_ they feel the same.

“We _have_ been looking for him,” the Director says, measuredly. “Contrary to your opinions, a select group of high-clearance operatives have been closely monitoring this case. We need to take him in for questioning and find out how much about us he’s told them. However, we can’t devote many resources to tracking him down. There’s the security issue I just mentioned, but if we bring him back in, there’s an extremely high possibility that he will find a way to escape again or reveal more of our secrets. We have to cut our losses.”

At that, Jaebum abruptly stands up from his chair, hurls the door open, and storms out of the Director’s office. How can the Director treat Mark like some expendable game piece? As if Mark wasn’t one of the best operatives to have passed through the Academy and then continued to work for the Agency? As if Mark hadn’t been an invaluable member of their team? As if Mark wasn’t their _friend_?

 

 

He doesn’t know how much time passes before Jinyoung finds him. Jaebum had left the secured perimeter, letting muscle memory guide him towards the direction of his favorite bookstore to calm down.

It’s a little, hole-in-the-wall shop. He isn’t even sure how he and Jinyoung managed to find it the first time, but it’s been something of a safe space for Jaebum ever since. Whenever he feels too much, especially too much fury and injustice, there’s a juxtaposition between his chest getting so tight and compressed it feels like he can barely breathe and his emotions will expanding until they fill up the entire space he’s in. He’s learned, over the years, that it calms him down to be somewhere small and confined, somewhere where the rage doesn’t have room to grow anymore. Plus, the atmosphere of bookstores, and this one in particular, is so warm and nurturing that it feels wrong to be angry.

By the time Jinyoung appears in front of him, where he’s sunken into an old bean bag chair nestled in between two looming shelves of British classics, Jaebum’s already managed to calm himself down. He feels more tired than anything else, a bone-deep sort of weariness that comes from day after day of uncertainty, confusion, and late-night guilt.

Jinyoung doesn’t say anything right away. He pulls up another chair and lets it engulf him as he closes his eyes.

His eyes are still closed when he says, “You know that wasn’t appropriate of you, right?”

Jinyoung sounds exhausted, too, and Jaebum’s immediately filled with the sort of shame that you get from disappointing someone so close to you.

“Yeah,” Jaebum answers, voice quiet, “yeah, I know.”

“I know that sometimes you don’t want to be,” Jinyoung says, “but you’re still our leader. We were all feeling what you were, to some extent, and yes, each of our relationships with Mark-hyung is different, so we won’t all react in the same way, but we needed you to lead us through that, today, and you didn’t.”

Jinyoung’s voice is soft, muted. It’s partly because the serenity of the bookstore doesn’t allow for anything else, but Jaebum also knows it’s because Jinyoung isn’t trying to be harsh. They’ve always been each other’s emotional checks, have always talked some sense into each other after something doesn’t go right, and this is just another extension of that. Jaebum had a job to do and he let whatever he feels for Mark get in the way. He knows that.

“I’m sorry you had to pick up my slack again,” Jaebum apologizes, “and I’m sorry I’m so shit at doing my job.”

“Hey, no,” Jinyoung protests instantly, “don’t do this to yourself. You’re an amazing leader and the only person who can manage to get even some semblance of control over us. You know we all respect you for what you do. Today was just a rare outlier because of…. Well, I know you don’t like talking about it, so I won’t say, but… y’know.”

“Yeah,” Jaebum repeats, albeit a little more embarrassed, “yeah, I know. And I know you’re just saying what needs to be said. It’s what we do. Thank you.”

Jinyoung answers with a smile and a nod. They sit in comfortable silence a little while longer, before Jaebum says, “We should probably head back.”

He stands up as Jinyoung hums an affirmative response. When they head out of the door, Jaebum feels a little lighter, finds it a little easier to breathe.

 

 

None of them want to believe it’s true. The Director had said their theory was a suspicion, so, for now, there was still room—room for their superiors to be wrong, room for them to find Mark, room for hope.

It’s this hope that provides more fuel for their desire to bring Mark back home, to where he belongs. So, naturally, they come up with a plan.

There’s this new piece of technology that Youngjae helped develop: teeny tiny cameras. That’s honestly the best Jaebum can do as far as a description goes. All he really gleans from the nearly five-minute long speech Youngjae gives about the merits of these new cameras is that they’re very small, very powerful, and the engineers have done something that masks the cameras from other devices so that, unless you know they’ve been set up, you wouldn’t know to avoid them at all.

Jackson, Bambam, and Yugyeom are tasked with planting the cameras on various streets. Jackson takes them to the various areas he’s been scouting, and it takes the three of them (plus Youngjae through an earpiece) about two days to cover every police-camera blind spot within a 30 kilometer radius. Jaebum half wishes it had taken them longer, because now, the only thing that they can do is wait.

At least they don’t have to wait for long.

Three days later, they catch Mark on one of the cameras at a bus stop close to headquarters. They have no idea how he managed to just _appear_ there, looking nonchalant, playing with his phone, leaning against a pole, but when Yugyeom sees him during his shift to monitor the surveillance footage, his shout nearly gives Jaebum heart failure.

He looks good.

That’s the first thing that registers in Jaebum’s brain. The camera quality isn’t the greatest thing in the world, given how small the device is, but it’s infinitely better than the standard, according to Youngjae, “prehistoric” police cameras Jaebum’s used to and it’s clear enough to make out Mark’s facial features. His skin, as per usual, looks like porcelain. There’s no hint of bruising or any kind of damage at all, actually, and even though Mark himself makes Jaebum’s breath catch, the implications of the flawlessness of his features make something unpleasant bubble up in Jaebum’s chest.

The second thing is how much Jaebum _misses_ him. Every day without Mark there feels strange and weirdly hollow, but they’ve been keeping themselves busy, trying to do everything they can to get a lead on where Mark is. Maybe it’s a shit coping mechanism, but none of them, Jaebum especially, have given themselves the time to feel Mark’s absence. Seeing Mark there, on the screen, ushers in a storm of emotions: relief that he seems to be okay, confusion as to why he hasn’t made an attempt to come back if he’s been so close, overwhelming longing for Mark to just be there with them again.

Jaebum misses the quick eye rolls at the younger boys’ antics, misses the playful banter of their day-to-day, misses the way Mark would sometimes baby him because it’s _nice_ having someone look after you when your literal job description is to look after everyone else all the time. Jaebum misses having someone to turn to the most. It’s not that he can’t go to the other boys for advice or comfort when he’s feeling down, but Mark is the only one who’s been able to _get it_ , or to understand what Jaebum needs and when. Jackson has a penchant for making the situation either too light-hearted in an earnest attempt to cheer Jaebum up or too serious; Jinyoung tends to get a little bit too philosophical, which is not really what Jaebum needs all the time; and call Jaebum old-fashioned, but he doesn’t like burdening Youngjae, Bambam, and Yugyeom with his problems.

Mark, though. Mark can tell whether Jaebum just needs an sympathetic ear and reassuring presence, some honest-to-god get-your-head-out-of-your-ass advice, a distraction from it all, or a combination of things. Jaebum’s always felt safe with Mark, and it’s not that he doesn’t feel safe with the other boys, but Mark’s brand of safeness is like draping a blanket that’s just come out of the dryer over your shoulders, warm and all-encompassing and smells like home.

 _God_ , Jaebum misses him _so much_. He just wants Mark back.

They see someone walk by Mark. To anyone else, it would just seem like one stranger walking by another, but their eyes are all trained to catch the slightest detail. Jaebum catches an almost imperceptible movement of the stranger’s arm and the flash of a folded note being dropped into the open pocket of Mark’s coat and he’s sure the others caught the action as well: a brush pass.

Like any good operative, Mark doesn’t immediately acknowledge that the pass has happened. He keeps playing with his phone (probably watching Overwatch videos on YouTube), looking up every once in a while to check for the bus. Then, when the bus finally arrives, he puts his phone in his pocket and Jaebum knows that Mark is checking to see whether or not the note is there.

They watch as the bus carries Mark away, to who, they do not know. But they plan on finding out.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol four weeks because life hit me real hard and i was not expecting it... this also is not proofread at all so uhh yell at me if there are mistakes !!
> 
> also, after several months, i’ve decided to remake my twitter over spring break (where i’ve already posted a snippet of a scene from chapter 7 hehe) if you wanna follow it…. [@aletheiaen](https://twitter.com/aletheiaen)… it's devolved into mostly retweets right now because school is draining my life force, but come say hi!!


	5. memory

“What are we going to do now?” Yugyeom asks as they watch the bus disappear from the camera’s view.

“We have to figure out what that note says,” Jaebum mutters under his breath as the wheels turn in his head.

They know Mark wouldn’t be dumb enough to check the note in a place with cameras. So how are they supposed to figure out what it says? A chorus of voices erupts as the boys shout out ideas and counterarguments: “We can track the license plate of the bus and watch the camera feeds at each bus stop to see where Mark gets off!” “And then what? We go to that bus stop and hope, miraculously, that he’s somewhere close by? Mark isn’t an idiot. He’s probably in a safe house miles away from any kind of surveillance.” “Guys-” “Well then I can go in as a scout, survey the are, and report back. Then, we-” “Jackson, there’s no way in hell we’re going to let you do that! These people were able to take Mark! We have no idea what they’re capable of! It’s too dangerous!” “ _Guys_ -” “We don’t know for sure if they _took_ Mark or not, but-” “But they still send a near _army_ of people after you guys when you were in that mansion! You’re not risking your life like that!” “You can’t just-”

“ _GUYS._ ” Jaebum bellows, cutting through the din of voices. Five pairs of eyes turn to look at him and Jaebum takes a deep breath, “As much as we all want to immediately jump into action and go on a wild man-hunt for Mark, none of us are thinking clearly right now. Seeing him…. Trust me, I want to hop into our fastest car and take off after that bus and bring Mark back home, too, but we can’t. It’s not safe. I won’t lose another one of you and I’m afraid that if we do anything today, I might.”

The near manic energy sobers a little at Jaebum’s words. He catches Jinyoung’s eye and he knows that at least one person understands him.

“Let’s just… let’s just take tonight to think of what we might want to do. Plan it out a little more either by yourselves or with other people. We can reconvene in the morning to sift through some of our ideas and try to pick the best course of action from that.”

Jackson looks like he’s about to protest, sitting up straighter in his seat, but then Jinyoung touches his elbow and he deflates, nodding his head.

 

 

They break after that, everyone heading off to their own special little places to regroup and to think.

Jaebum has a variety of special little places. There’s the bookstore, of course, that he shares with Jinyoung; the PC room on the other side of time he often visits with Youngjae; the yoga studio only he and Jackson are flexible enough to enjoy and can unwind in; the hole-in-the-wall café he found with Yugyeom where they’ve had many conversations over coffee and chocolate milk; the baseball field he and Bambam goof off in, screaming their lungs out and acting like the immature children they never got to be.

He’s got his own, personal little places too, like the cat café and the training room on sublevel 3 that he’s pretty sure only he uses.

This time, though, he feet direct him towards the park by the river, where he and Mark used to go after training sessions to just… _be_.

He finds himself sitting on a bench overlooking the river, as if drawn, against which they would prop their bikes, before resting their weary bodies. They would talk about their days, airing out grievances or humble-bragging about accomplishments, or would simply sit together and unwind, each lost in their own minds.

This time, though, when Jaebum gets lost in his mind, it’s not his own issues that he’s trying to sort out. This time, he gets lost in a maze of memories.

 

 

 _Mark is close to snapping, Jaebum can tell. Jaebum can always see it. Sometimes, it’s only there for a split second, but ever since Jaebum noticed the first time when they were sparring, he watches for it. Waits for it. Anticipates that glint of_ something _behind the steely concentration, something akin to desperation, that flickers in Mark’s eyes._

_In all the time that Jaebum has known him, Mark has always donned a façade of calm, has always been the picture perfect definition of stoicism and emotional control during every aspect of their training. It’s why all of their instructors fawn over him, why all the other agents-in-training either love him or hate him._

_Although, it would be wrong to call it a façade. Jaebum has had first-hand experience with Mark’s seemingly endless reservoir of patience. It’s what endears Mark to him, among a plethora of other things. Just yesterday, it was Mark who stopped Jaebum from almost decking someone in the face, with a gentle touch and stern look that reminded Jaebum of why he was at the Academy in the first place, of why he can’t pull shit like this, no matter how much the situation warrants it._

_Right now, it’s Jaebum’s turn to reign in the beast, to calm the storm. He rests a hand at Mark’s nape, squeezing the tense muscles, trying to steer Mark away, to remind him that it’s not worth it._

_Mark huffs a breath through his nose, relaxes his shoulders. He walks away, much to his adversary’s displeasure, and Jaebum follows, a little bit too pleased with himself._

It doesn’t start with that, though.

_There’s a new kid at the Academy. That’s been the talk of the town for the past few days. Jaebum hasn’t personally seen the new recruit, but then again, he rarely pays them any mind until he needs to interact with them. There have been too many people who come and go, too many people he’s cared about, only for them disappear without a trace. So far, the only constant has been Jinyoung, who he entered the Academy with and who Jaebum knows he’ll graduate with._

_Jinyoung’s started to mention a new name, Mark, in his stories and Jaebum isn’t surprised because, while they’re both guarded, Jinyoung has always been the more extroverted and social between the two of them. Jaebum hums and nods in all the right places in all of Jinyoung’s stories, but quite truthfully, this Mark person blends into the shadows for him. Jaebum’s heard that Mark’s been placed into some of the more advanced classes, so they don’t ever really need to speak with one another, and whenever Jaebum sees Mark in the dining area, he’s either content to be by himself or smiling with some of the older agents-in-training._

_Despite apparently being friends with Jinyoung, Mark doesn’t enter Jaebum’s radar for a few months, when another new recruit joins the Academy._

_This new recruit, Jackson Wang, is_ loud _. It’s not that Jaebum doesn’t understand loud (trust him, he’s got one of the loudest voices in the Academy), but Jackson Wang doesn’t ever seem to turn off his loud, volume dial always at full blast. The general consensus among the Academy is that Jackson Wang is the kind of loud that people either adore or despise, or maybe despise and grow to adore, the kind of loud that immediately endears or repels. Jaebum’s always tried to isolate himself from gossip like that, but when Jackson Wang is suddenly in all of his classes, it becomes difficult to ignore. Either way, Jinyoung seems to like him and Jackson becomes a semi-regular face. Jaebum even allows himself a dim hope that he’ll stick around for a bit._

_Because Jackson is loud, Jaebum finally notices._

_He and Jackson have taken to pairing up together during drills, less so their initiative than their instructors’, who have all noticed that they tend to be neck and neck with each other when it comes to brute force, hand-to-hand combat. Jaebum half-expects Jackson_ — _who always yearns to be the best, to tackle the most difficult challenge_ — _to seek him out during these open sparring sessions, but every time Jaebum turns to find the familiar face, Jackson’s already occupied, beads of sweat dripping down his face._

It takes Jaebum longer than it should have to register the fact that the other face is always the same.

_Jackson and Mark tend to draw a crowd. Jaebum has never paid the circle of onlookers any mind, choosing instead to focus on his own training, until, one day, Jinyoung’s curiosity gets the better of him and he forces Jaebum to watch._

It’s almost an art _, Jaebum thinks as he watches Mark spar._

_When Jackson isn’t with Jinyoung or flitting around, introducing himself to whoever he can (and Jaebum’s come to realize that it’s not even an “I need to meet and form relationships with as many people as I can just in case” thing, it’s just a “Jackson is a genuinely outgoing person who loves being around other people” thing), he’s with Mark._

_Jackson likes to show off how much work he’s putting in to each movement, punctuating each punch or kick or trick with a grunt or a shout, breathing hard and gritting his teeth as he spars. Mark, though, is just the opposite. He’s quiet and quick and looks as if he’s flying through air, feet light on the floor and breaths evenly controlled. His face remains impassive, as if doing a 540 degree spin and the air is as easy as taking a stroll through the park. The only real tell Jaebum’s been able to see of Mark actually exerting much physical effort is the exaggerated rise and fall of his chest and the flare of his nostrils as he breathes._

_It makes Jaebum very, very curious._

As much as it was Jackson who brought Mark to Jaebum’s attention, they become friends through Jinyoung, really.

_“Now that Jaebum’s forced you to spar with him,” Jinyoung says, ignoring the way Jaebum’s cheeks turn an unusual shade of pink, “I feel like we should all be friends!”_

_He’s dragged Mark away from his usual lunch crowd to join their table._

_Neither Jaebum nor Mark are particularly skilled conversationalists. But that’s where Jinyoung comes in, and Jackson, a few minutes later._

_They find that they like spending time together because their personalities are similar yet clashing at the same time. Jaebum is all blunt straightforwardness where Mark is unvoiced judgement; Jaebum is loud, unbridled passion where Mark is quiet, restrained logic; Jaebum is shy uncertainty where Mark is resolute confidence. But they think so much of the same thing. It’s nice to have someone on the same wavelength as you, but different enough to provide an interesting perspective on anything and everything. They talk more than Jaebum expects them to; they become closer than Jaebum expects them to as well._

_And that’s when the trouble really begins._

 

 

A basketball bumps against Jaebum’s foot, jolting him back to reality.

“Sorry!” a high-pitched voice apologizes, and Jaebum looks up to see a child smiling sheepishly at him. He smiles, too, rolling the basketball back to the child, who scampers back to a large tree where he was playing with his friends. Why they’ve decided to do that instead of go to the blacktop with actual basketball hoops is beyond Jaebum, but he can’t say that his boys haven’t done something weirder.

Then, he remembers.

The memory comes suddenly, like a flash of lightning.

He can picture them, him and Mark, walking together, pointing out various spaces, asking each other, “Would this one be okay?”

_They’re trying to practice dead-drops. They’re working in pairs, but not partners: Mark and Jaebum giving each other messages, as well as Jackson and Jinyoung doing the same. In real life, they will probably be communicating with someone who isn’t familiar to them, which is why they’ve decided not to partner up._

_They’ve coerced some of the younger agents-in-training_ — _Youngjae, Bambam, and Yugyeom, who they’ve somehow all adopted_ — _to help out. Youngjae has already managed to access the feeds of the security cameras in the area they’ve decided to practice in, and Bambam and Yugyeom have agreed to practice tailing them day-of, to see if they’ll give themselves away._

_He and Mark have been walking for a bit, sweat already accumulating in the summer sun, trying to find somewhere that’s in a blindspot, but wouldn’t draw attention if a young man were to bend down for a few seconds._

_They’re passing by a big weeping willow in the middle of the park when Mark points to it, asking if Jaebum wants to take a quick break in the shade. They sit at the root of it, bodies concealed by the branches. Mark’s hands are at his sides, playing with some of the blades of grass. Jaebum watches the way the light bleeds through the foliage, shining patterns across Mark’s face, and wonders if he’s a little screwed._

_“Hey, Jaebum,” Mark says, “look.”_

_Jaebum drops his line of sight to Mark’s right hand. It’s picking at an opening in between the roots._ Ah _, Jaebum thinks to himself,_ smart.

_Jaebum doesn’t say anything, instead trying to unearth an appropriate sized rock that can cover the opening. It takes a bit, but he finally finds one, fitting it in place and sharing a grin with Mark._

_They exit the willow tree and three days later, when they’re practicing, Youngjae, Bambam, and Yugyeom can’t find them._

He rises from the bench, heart pounding and suddenly buzzing with nerves. He wonders, for a second, if Mark had even remembered their dead drop, before shaking the question out of his head. It’s a silly doubt. Mark remembers everything.

The willow tree is on the opposite side of the park and by the time he reaches it, Jaebum feels like he’s vibrating with tension.

He parts the branches and does a lap around the trunk to find the spot. Their rock is there, in place, the more angled side pointing out. There’s a message.

Quickly, Jaebum wiggles the rock out of its place, feeling around for the smoothness of a piece of paper against the crumbly texture of soft dirt. His eyes skim the note, committing it to memory, when he finds the slip of paper.

The note is short and simple: a meeting time and place.

Feeling dread in the pit of his stomach, Jaebum folds the note in the same way Mark did and puts it and the rock back in their places.

 _Goddammit, Mark_ , Jaebum worries to himself as he rushes back to the dorm, _what are you doing?_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apparently i like big trees or whatever… also parks…. oops. sorry this took so long, uni & life really be like that ALL THE TIME ;~; i wrote this instead of studying for finals, though, so…. hehe….
> 
> comments & kudos are always appreciated!! lmk what you thought of all these flashbacks & slightly nonlinear narrative!
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/aletheiaen) & [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/aletheiaen) (@aletheiaen)


	6. confrontation

They have six days to make a plan.

They know Mark will get there early; he always does, when he’s meeting someone. It’s in his nature, as far as Jaebum is aware, to be meticulous in that sense. Mark even has a number of minutes he likes to show up early: 18. “ _It’s such a random increment of time_ ,” Mark explained to them once, “ _that I can usually intercept someone trying to disrupt the meeting. And if the person I’m meeting has any surprises for me, it’s also usually enough time to diffuse the situation or to think of exit strategies, especially if I’m in an unfamiliar location._ ”

Youngjae, of course, will be running surveillance and comms in their choice of vehicle. He’s already managed to access the feed from the pub’s security cameras and has been monitoring it closely, just in case Mark decides to pop in.

Through that, they’ve been able to get a good idea of quick entry and exit points (for Bambam and Yugyeom, who will be in the pub for additional surveillance) as well as some relatively well hidden hiding spots outside the pub (for Jackson and Jinyoung, who will be outside as backup, just in case).

And Jaebum will confront Mark.

After everything that’s happened, Jaebum is still Mark’s leader. Jaebum is still Mark’s leader, which means that he should’ve known if Mark wanted to leave them. And if Mark didn’t want to leave them, if he was captured, then Jaebum could help Mark make a plan to get back. Hell, he would drag Mark back to HQ himself, then and there, if he needed to. And if Mark did want to leave them… well. He should’ve been able to be a comforting presence and Mark’s go-to person for advice and he should’ve been able to _tell_ , dammit. He feels like he’s failed. Failed himself, failed his team, failed Mark, failed everybody because if he couldn’t be all of those things for Mark, then what kind of leader was he? What kind of _friend_ was he?

So, Jaebum will confront Mark because Jaebum is still Mark’s leader and Mark is something else to Jaebum, too, but they don’t need to talk about that.

 

 

They’re supposed to get there seven minutes before him. Jaebum is supposed to be sitting at the bar, the most likely place for Mark to have this meeting and the most visible place from the front door. Mark, out of surprise, is supposed to walk over to where Jaebum has chosen to sit and greet him. Jaebum is supposed to ask Mark what the hell has been going on and based on whether Mark vanished willingly or unwillingly, he is either supposed to answer, or remain silent. Based on Mark’s answer, Jaebum is supposed to either burst with joy, or swallow down his disappointment as he gives Mark one last neck squeeze as he leaves the pub, embedding a GPS tracker just beneath the surface of his skin.

Like most of their plans recently, this one absolutely does not go accordingly.

They’re split into two cars this time: one boxy Jeep Grand Cherokee, back of the car carved out to make room for Youngjae and his monitoring equipment as Jinyoung and Jackson ride in the front, and another, smaller sedan, with Jaebum driving and Bambam riding shotgun (much to Yugyeom’s disappointment).

They’re _almost_ there, honestly, when Jaebum hears a loud curse through the comms unit already secure in his ear.

“What happened?” he asks, alarm coloring his voice.

“Mark is already there,” Youngjae grimly replies.

The discomfort and shock that fills the car is almost palpable. Jaebum can feel his grip on the steering wheel tighten involuntarily as he sighs, “I’ll improvise.”

After they arrive, they position themselves as they had planned. But when Jaebum opens the door to the pub—Bambam and Yugyeom immediately slipping in through the door behind him to go to their locations—instead of him waiting for Mark at the bar, it is Mark who greets him.

Well, it’s Mark’s back that greets him, but, technicalities.

Jaebum walks up to Mark slowly. Only when he’s about a step away does Mark say, “Hello, Jaebum.” He hasn’t even turned around to see who it was.

“Hi,” Jaebum responds. His voice is soft but laced with some strange, unnatural mixture of warning and uncertainty. He wishes it didn’t sound the way that it did.

There’s a pregnant pause. For the first time in a long time, the silence between them is stifling. Jaebum doesn’t know what to say to make it better.

It’s Mark who breaks the silence. He asks Jaebum how everyone’s been, clearly not expecting an answer considering he leaves no room for a response as he immediately follows up with a comment about how Bambam and Yugyeom are in the pub as well. Some part of Jaebum is glad that Mark hasn’t lost his edge, but a greater part of him is _scared_. And he’s never been scared of Mark before.

Mark’s skill has always made him intimidatingly impressive; his concealed past has made him enigmatic; his quiet yet not overstated confidence has made him admirable; his moments of openness, both to others and of himself, have made him lovable. Yet, his omniscience, which has always made him such as asset to his team, is downright frightening, now that Jaebum is faced with it as an opponent.

“I want to know about your involvement with _Luanshi_ ,” Jaebum spits out. It’s all he can really manage before his throat closes in on itself. He feels sick. His voice, this time, at least sounds cold.

Mark’s expression doesn’t change. He still looks completely unfazed and maybe Jaebum shouldn’t be surprised by Mark’s stoicism, but he is. Mark is so prepared for almost everything regarding his line of work, but Jaebum thought that maybe Mark would startle at the attack on his character or even the evidence of his own sloppiness (which Mark prides himself in _not having_ ), but Mark doesn’t.

“You guys figured it out.” Mark’s response is simple. Five words. It’s short and efficient and gets the point across, straight like an arrow, landing firmly in the bullseye that is Jaebum’s heart. He can feel it shattering.

Jaebum can hear the rest of his team, the five other boys, catch their breath collectively over the comms unit in his ear. It’s not even like there was anything at all in what Jaebum said for Mark to confirm, but the implication is there, crystal clear, and it’s confirmation enough of their worst fears.

Feebly, Jaebum tries, “It’s okay if you worked with them; you can still come back with us! You know you’re one of the best agents that has ever gone through the Academy and I’m sure the Director would let you resume your role in the Agency, in _our team_ , if you just cut ties and explained-“

“Even if I wanted to go back,” Mark interrupts, “I couldn’t. It’s not that simple. Despite the fact that you guys somehow found out about _Luanshi_ , there’s still a universe of things you don’t know. I couldn’t leave. I can’t and I won’t.”

And if Jaebum’s heart was shattered before, it’s like his entire body had been ground into fine powder with Mark’s words. He doesn’t want to go back? Are they not a family, the seven of them? Do they not mean the world to Mark, as Mark does to them? To Jaebum?

Mark continues, “It’s not that I think you guys don’t have skills, but you’re completely out of your depth. You should take a vacation; go to the beach, check under the rocks for some crabs. Take a break. Lord knows you guys deserve it.”

It’s a running joke among them, but it’s unusual for Mark to be speaking so much. Jaebum has missed Mark’s voice more than he can possibly explain, but he almost wishes Mark would stop talking. Especially when there’s so much that Jaebum can’t say. Mark is certainly also on comms right now, feeding this entire conversation to some unknown entity that was powerful enough to take Mark away from them.

 _We need you_ , Jaebum wants to say. _Please, please come back. We’ve been so lost without you._

He wants to tell Mark that Jackson has been tearing himself apart with fear and worry; that Jackson misses Mark like a phantom limb and looks haunted every minute he’s awake because Mark isn’t with them. He wants to tell Mark that Jinyoung’s patience is slowly wearing thin; that Jinyoung needs the kind of tranquility that only Mark has ever been able to fully provide. He wants to tell Mark that Youngjae has only been playing Overwatch recently; that even if he doesn’t say it, everyone knows Youngjae is playing that stupid game because it’s the one game that Mark used to play with him. He wants to tell Mark that Bambam has been going stir-crazy; that there’s a level of indulgence in his antics that only Mark has, and not having that is making Bambam act less and less like the carefree version of himself their team knows and loves. He wants to tell Mark that Yugyeom has been devastated; that when Jaebum passes by all of their rooms at night for one final check, he has more often than not heard muffled sniffles coming from Yugyeom’s room because he misses his favorite hyung.

Most importantly, Jaebum wants to tell Mark that _he_ feels like he can’t do anything, can’t function properly with Mark gone. He misses their team’s angel so much that it’s all he can think about sometimes, even when there are five other lives on the line. It’s irresponsible, he knows, but he can’t help it. Without Mark there, without his presence and little giggles and silent nods of reassurance and votes of confidence in Jaebum’s abilities, it feels like Jaebum has been thrown off a mountain cliff, clamoring for a foothold but finding that his hands only grasp at air, hurtling into a frightening freefall.

He wants to scream all of this at Mark, scream it in his face until the words seep past Mark’s skin into his bones, into his _soul_ so that Mark finally understands all that he does for them, but Jaebum can’t. Instead, he is silent.

“You should go,” Mark says, voice softer and gentler, sounding almost like he did before this mess happened. “It’s pointless, Jaebum-ah. I can’t come with you.”

Jaebum stands in shaky legs and turns to leave.

He gives Mark a stiff nod and thinks he imagines Mark whispering, “I am so _so_ sorry.”

He walks out of the pub, Bambam and Yugyeom behind him. They get in the car, tension thick enough in the air to press their lips shut, and drive back to headquarters.

 

 

It takes a little under an hour to get back. And in that hour, all Jaebum has been able to work out for sure is that he is _so fucking angry_.

He _will_ taken down _Luanshi_. He _will_ tear down these people who have taken so much from him.

He _will_ get Mark back.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quite honestly, this fic is SO difficult for me to write & i knew it was going to be hard because i know i’m not good at writing action (even though i love reading it) but i seriously find it so boring and want to delete the whole thing…. i won’t, though, because i’m really frickin stubborn so i HAVE to finish it now that i’ve started but like… jfc. at least we’re finally past the halfway point loll
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/aletheiaen) & [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/aletheiaen) (@aletheiaen)


	7. farewell

When they arrive back at headquarters, Jaebum sees no other option than to meet with the Director.

There’s a sort of clinical precision to the nature in which he delivers mission reports that Jaebum has developed over the years. Usually, its sole purpose is simply to meet the Director’s expectations: brevity and clarity. Sometimes, when a mission has had one too many close calls for comfort, one too many threatening injuries, one too many almost-goodbyes, Jaebum has found that being so precise helps him deal with the more emotionally-heavy side of his job. And if “deal with” looks more like “shove everything into a corner in the deep recesses of his mind because it’s not urgent anymore, since the threat of danger is gone for now,” then only Jaebum needs to know that.

But It’s harder this time. Harder to not get choked up, harder to push past the need to take calming breaths, harder not to get lost in memories and what-ifs because, this time, the danger has not gone. Instead, it has won.

The Director hears about their self-appointed mission with a grim look on his face. His expression starts off a little annoyed that they had just gone out and taken matters into their own hands, not bothering to go through all the proper (read: boring, tedious, and honestly kind of useless) paperwork beforehand, and only gets darker as their report progresses.

After Jaebum finishes speaking, there are a few moments of tense silence.

He can feel his members’ nervous energy thrum through him the way metal conducts electricity. Usually, he appreciates being so in tune with them that their feelings become his and vice versa, but now, it only serves to amplify the anxiety he feels sitting deep within his chest.

“I think I have another mission for you,” the Director finally says.

Jaebum looks at him in shock. This is the last thing he was expecting.

“Before I tell you what you’re about to do, there are a few things you should know about this organization. Mind you, very _very_ few people know what I’m about to tell you. The fewer people who know, the better, lest they be tempted to join, but I don’t think that’ll be a risk with this particular team.”

Jaebum cracks his knuckles in anticipation of what they’re about to hear. _The Director isn’t wrong_ , he thinks bitterly to himself.

“You’ve already figured out that their mission is chaos. It isn’t even like they want the power that they’re disrupting; they aren’t trying to create a new world order. In fact, people barely know they _exist_. That’s what makes them so dangerous. That’s what makes stopping them so hard: we don’t even know _who_ we’re up against.

“As such, their leadership infrastructure is incredibly nuanced. From what we’ve been able to gather, heads of the organization are hereditary, passed down from generation to generation. If the family doesn’t have a son or a daughter, a direct biological heir, then it goes to a cousin or an adopted child.

“The leadership ring itself is small, but the organization, as I’m sure you’ve been able to ascertain, is huge. Their activities are documented in a way that can’t be accessed remotely. The lower members have no idea who the heads are. They might not even know each other—they operate in microcosms of the organization as a whole, each team with a specialized task, each team with separate, independent missions.

“I’m telling you this information to stress the danger and risk of what I’m about to ask of you. When dealing with _Luanshi_ , we _never_ know who our agents might be up against, whether they’re just lower rank recruits or the heirs themselves. You can never be too careful.

“Do you have any questions so far?”

“How do you know all of this, if it’s so classified?” blurts out a voice from Jaebum’s left. (It’s Youngjae, ever the inquisitive one.)

The Director smirks, “ _Luanshi_ may have moles in every agency, but we have a mole there as well. That’s all I can tell you.”

“What, exactly, is our mission?” Jaebum asks next, because if he’s responsible for planning a supposedly high-risk operation, he’d like to know what the hell the end goal is.

“Right,” the Director begins, “you’re supposed to intercept a package.”

The Director says nothing more, and now Jaebum’s getting a little annoyed with his penchant for dramatics.

“Is that all we know?” Jaebum asks, suppressed the very strong urge to roll his eyes.

“Our mole overheard that an important package was to be delivered at Dongho Bridge in three days. They can’t accurately tell us how many people are being sent, or even if they’re going to be part of the mission, since _Luanshi_ agents don’t find out what their assignments are until the day-of. We have a time, a place, and a vague description of what’s supposed to happen. And that’s all we have.”

Jaebum wants to exhale a long-suffering sigh through his nose because, really, when has life ever decided to give him any sort of a break?

 

 

This is probably the most uncertain Jaebum has ever been before a mission. Even their least thoroughly planned missions were more structured than this. With the scant information available to him, all Jaebum could really do was decide when they would arrive at Dongho Bridge and where his team members should attempt to conceal themselves while waiting.

The only other times Jaebum has felt _this_ powerless, _this_ out of control of a situation, he was thinking about his feelings pertaining to a certain agent. There’s a reason why he tries not to do that anymore.

They’ve been waiting for about 12 minutes, now. Then, slowly, three figures approach their hiding area, two from the left and one from the right. The lone figure passes a slim cylinder to the others as they cross paths. The exchange is smooth, betrayed only by the light that glints off of the container’s metal surface.

Jaebum gives the signal for his team to reveal themselves, surrounding the three _Luanshi_ agents.

Technically, they should have the advantage. Technically, since they have more people and the element of surprise on their side, this should be easy. Technically, they should be able to take out the agents, even without knowing their opponents’ skill sets, since they are so attuned to each other and it sounds like _Luanshi_ agents barely have time to get themselves ready for an op, much less coordinate fighting sequences with other agents.

Technically, this should be almost easy, but whatever “technically”s they had been drawing up in their heads didn’t include seeing Mark.

But there he is, clear as day, with two other people (with another team that isn’t _them_ ), all with insignias of the symbol of chaos embroidered neatly and subtly onto their clothes.

Jaebum’s team is stunned, frozen in place at the realization that _their_ Mark is on that bridge, not with them, but against them. Jaebum almost can’t even _breathe_ , much less bring himself to lead a proper ambush.

So, with their shock, the element of surprise is taken from them, passed instead to the hands of the _Luanshi_ agents, who have immediately taken some sort of formation, ready for a fight.

The three _Luanshi_ agents have their backs towards each other. Mark doesn’t even glance around before he’s throwing a dagger in the air, seemingly without aim. The agent to his left jumps and reaches a hand behind his back, grabbing the hilt of the dagger and swinging it in an arc above his head. The dagger flies, and Bambam barely has time to leap out of the way, but still the dagger cuts through his sleeve. A thin trail of blood trickles down his arm and they look at the three agents in shock.

This must’ve been what Mark was doing, all those mornings when Jaebum would wake up at 6am for a training session, only to hear the water already running in their dorm. This must’ve been what Mark was doing, whenever they had half a day’s rest and he would disappear somewhere, Jaebum taking advantage of his absence to take a nap in Mark’s much more comfortable bed. Mark would always come back at night, just in time for dinner with the team, drop off his backpack in his room, then look at Jaebum, sitting at the kitchen table drinking his sikhye, and smirk at him like he knew. It would happen after every nap, without fail, no matter how neatly Jaebum tried to put Mark’s bed back together after he napped. Mark would always know, would always smile at him with a twinkle in his eye. _It’s okay_ , the twinkle would say, _I don’t mind._

The dagger throw snaps Jaebum back into focus because now Bambam is _injured_ and it’s _Mark’s_ fault and this absolutely is _not_ okay.

He signals for Bambam and Yugyeom to deal with the other two agents. It’ll be easier for them, since they’re partners, and it seems as though, unlike their initial assumptions, these three agents have trained long and hard together, or at least enough to develop patterns and familiarity and _trust_.

And that leaves Jaebum, Jackson, and Jinyoung to take on Mark.

Technically, they should have the upper hand. Technically, since Jackson is (was?) Mark’s partner, he should know Mark’s default reactions, should know how to seek out Mark’s weaknesses and use them to his advantage. Technically, since Jaebum and Jinyoung are partners and Mark is only one person, it shouldn’t be a problem for them to deal with him.

But Mark has always been the exception.

Jaebum doesn’t seen he’s _ever_ seen Mark like this during any of their missions. He moves with a speed that leads Jaebum to believe he’d sewn in weights to his pants or some other Naruto shit during their previous missions together, because Jaebum can barely keep track of where Mark is.

He sees Jinyoung attempting to throw his garrote at Mark—so that it wraps around his neck and cuts off his air supply, no doubt—but Mark somehow flips himself around mid-air and kicks one end of the garrote directly towards Jackson’s currently turned head. It’s all Jaebum can do, to fling his baton in order to divert the path of the garrote, before he has to fling his arms in front of himself, to protect his face from being pummeled by Mark’s foot.

 

 

The liquidity of time that Jaebum usually appreciates about combat can seriously go to hell.

It feels like it’s been hours since they’ve first confronted the _Luanshi_ agents. Jaebum knows, realistically, that it could’ve only been a few minutes, but _god_ , his muscles already feel strained and he’s panting so hard it feels like his lungs will burst through his ribcage. The sweat that’s been steadily dripping into his eyes from his fringe _stings_ , but what stings more is that fact that it looks like Mark is almost enjoying himself.

His face, of course, is expressionless. Jaebum can see the beads of sweat dripping from Mark’s sideburns, down his cheek then to his neck, yet Mark betrays no sign of physical exertion. There is, however, a hard glint to his eye that Jaebum has only seen a few times before, on a few difficult missions where Mark’s uncanny ability to cheat death has been tested. Mark has always walked away from those experiences utterly pleased with himself, excited and full of energy as the rest of their exhausted team look on in bewilderment.

Then, Jaebum hears the roaring blades of a helicopter and snaps his head towards the sky.

He really, _really_ shouldn’t have taken his attention off of Mark, who has taken their distraction as an opportunity to freely lob the container at the open door.

Evidently, the sudden helicopter appearance startled Bambam and Yugyeom as well, because just when Jaebum thought that this mission couldn’t have gone worse and that this helicopter couldn’t possibly come closer, the two other _Luanshi_ agents fling grappling hooks around the landing skids of the helicopter and bring themselves on board, to their safety.

It is seeing the two agents disappear behind the helicopter’s closed doors that prompts Jaebum to focus his attention to Mark.

He’s taken off his jacket. He’s taken off his jacket and, _dear god_ , Jaebum thinks he’s going to be sick because now he understands why Mark was working so hard to keep his distance as they were fighting, even though Mark usually does not shy away from hand-to-hand combat.

Mark’s taking small steps towards the edge of the walking path and now Jaebum _knows_ he’s going to be sick because he knows exactly what Mark is planning on doing that close to the edge of the bridge wearing a fucking vest of bombs with a remote control in his hand.

Everyone else comes to the same understanding as Jaebum, apparently at the exact same time, because there is a cacophony of shrill voices, screaming at Mark to stop.

It’s not enough. Mark has already climbed onto the railing, balancing precariously, as he says, “Goodbye, GOT7,” presses the detonate button, and backflips off the side of the bridge.

Everyone turns away to shield themselves, but Jaebum feels himself sprinting towards Mark, until the very last possible second when self-preservation instincts kick in. He throws himself onto the concrete, feeling rocks scrape against his skin and heat waves roll across his back.

When Jaebum no longer hears explosives being set off, when he no longer feels the ground beneath his feat shaking, he lifts his head from the ground to survey the damage.

The explosion has created a gaping hole on the side of the bridge.

But what is that in comparison to his teammates’ shell-shocked faces and the emptiness Jaebum can feel spreading through his heart like a disease?

Mark is truly gone.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing this fic makes me want to pull a mark and also backflip off of a bridge but i will persevere!!
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/aletheiaen) & [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/aletheiaen) (@aletheiaen)


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